A Woman Like You
by Jameson Rook
Summary: She was home. Fiona wasn't in that cold, loveless prison cell anymore. Deep down he knew that, but for an agonizing moment, Michael forgot.


_**Disclaimer: Burn Notice and all of its characters belong to Matt Nix and the USA Network. **_

_** Can I just take a moment to get this out? AHHHHHHHHHHHH! There. I feel better. That premiere? Blew. My. Mind. I was working the overnight shift at my job, and there were certain parts (I won't elaborate in case you haven't seen it) that had me in tears, and there were parts that had me practically running in a circle with my arms out like an airplane going "WOOOOOO". I squeaked so loud in the final scene that I almost woke someone at work up. I have so many Burn Notice feels about our babies being back that I don't even know how to handle them. So. Many. Emotions. I'm so happy this show is back in my life. SO HAPPY.**_

_** All of that combined with the fact that I've had three hours of sleep in the past three days, have worked almost 20 of the past 24 hours are creating a post-BN, dopey grinning haze that produced this little piece. Yay for sleep deprivation!**_

_"She knows what a mess I'd be if I didn't have her here, _

_But to be sure, I whispered in her ear,_

_'You know I get sick deep sea fishin', you make the best fried chicken._

_I got a hopeless golf game, I love the sound of your name,_

_I might miss that old green Nova, but I love watchin' you do yoga._

_I'd take a gold band on my hand over being a single man,_

_'Cause honestly I don't know what I'd do_

_If I never met a woman like you." _

_-"Woman Like You" Lee Brice_

Deep down I think I remembered that she was home, that she wasn't held up in that cold, loveless jail cell anymore. That I wasn't alone with my thought in the loft, but for a brief, agonizingly long span of time, I forgot.

I sat, perched on the end of our bed with my fingers laced and my hands pressed to my lips so roughly that it bordered on painful. I stared straight ahead into the darkness of the loft, my eyes unblinking, my stoic expression unwaivering. The tight curl of pain in my chest wasn't something that I was a stranger to. Not anymore. Not since I saw Fiona in those handcuffs. Not since I felt the sick, bitter taste of betrayal on my tongue when I realized that Sam had just let her _walk out_. Not since...Nate. I swallowed a choked sob at the thought of him, laying on that cold cement.

I had felt his pulse stop fluttering under my fingers. I had felt the life go out of him, and I had _begged_ him not to. I had done everything but fashion a MacGyver-style pair of defibrillator pads out of our belt buckles and a 9-volt battery.

Then there was my mother. My mother couldn't even stand to be in the same room with me without her face contorting into pure, unadulerated hatred. I could still feel the sting of her palm on my cheek and the scorch of her agonized tears as they soaked through my shirt the day that I had told her about Nate. It was the last time that she had let me pull her into my arms, reluctant as it was, and I missed the suffocating smell of her cigarette smoke.

I tried to stand from the edge of the bed, determined that I was going to, once again, try contacting her, but my legs quivered and collapsed from underneath me. I fell to my knees heavily, a scream tearing from my throat as the sobs that I had kept pent up finally escaped. My head hung down, bowed in shame, and my hands reached out to brace my body weight on the floor in front of my.

I cried until my lungs burned and my throat felt like it had been torn open. It was only when I felt the tiny, rain chilled hand on my back that I startled and jumped backwards until my ass connected with the floor and I used my hands and feet to shuffle myself backwards, terrified. Her eyes connected with mine, conveying so much concern and tenderness that I had to swallow around a large lump in my throat before I spoke.

"Fi, I..." I started, speaking around the tightness of my tears, but I couldn't seem to finish the statement. She simply nodded, her own eyes welling with tears as she moved closer and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, her tiny body curled into my lap and her chin resting on top of my head. I wrapped my own arms around her waist and burrowed my head into the crook of her neck, unable to contain the cries that escaped me. My body shook under her fingers as she murmured 'it's okay' over and over into my ear, and she placed soft kisses to my temple.

Her own voice shook with tears as she let out everything that she had been holding back as well, but her soft strokes on my back never waived. She rubbed small circles between my shoulder blades with one hand as the fingers on her other hand ran through the strands of my hair slowly.

"I'm sorry." I whimpered, my voice sounding more like that of a broken child than that of the 'super spy' I had convinced everyone I was. "I'm so sorry, Fi. So damned sorry." I repeated the mantra, as if I thought that, suddenly, that would change everything that had happened. Like it would take away the bullet that tore through my brother, or the nightmares that I knew Fi was having about her time in prision, or the wedge that I had driven between me and my mother. But, I knew it wouldn't. 'I'm sorry' hadn't changed things when I'd stolen my first car and Ma had caught me, and it didn't change things now.

"It's not your fault, Michael. It's _not_." She whispered, pulling away enough to shift so that her legs were on either side of her hips and pressed her forehead against mine, her thumbs brushing the tears off of my cheekbones. "Look at me."

I did as she requested, my tear glazed, arctic blue eyes met hers weakly, unable to do anything but what she requested. It was a weakness of mine. Anything for Fi. Anything.

"You are a good man, Michael Westen. Even if you don't want to see it, I know it's true, and I know that you never wanted anything bad to happen to Nate. You were always looking out for him."

"The last time I spoke to him, Fi, I was yelling at him. I was an asshole. He was just trying to help, and I sent him away like he was a dog. He was my _brother_ and I let him down. He had no business being out there with Anson, but I was so caught up on finding him that I didn't care. I _killed_ my baby brother."

"No, you didn't." She snapped, lifting my head just before I let it drop to my chest. The warmth and love in her eyes caused me to inhale sharply, my hands skittering up her back and burying into her hair, pulling her head closer until it rested in the crook of my neck.

"My mother thinks so." I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sounds of our ragged breathing.

"She's just grieving, Michael. You've got to give her time. She'll come around. I promise." I nodded slowly, konwing that she was right, but not quite being able to believe it. "I love you." She whimpered, pulling away so that she could look into my eyes. "Okay?" I nodded slowly, the tears spilling over my eye lids again. "I love you, because you are the most kind, and decent man that I have ever known. You are the best thing that has ever happened to any of us, Michael. Don't ever forget that."

"I," I paused, swallowing until my tongue no longer felt like sand paper and nodded. "I love you too, Fi. I'm sorry that I drug you into all of this."

"All of what?" She questioned, quirking an eyebrow.

"This." I gestured broadly around the loft. "This ridiculous, dangerous life that seems to follow men like me." She gave a genuine Glenanne-laugh that seemed to melt a layer of the ice around my heart and kissed the end of my nose softly.

"Michael, I was sucked into a life of danger _long_ before I met you. Remember?" I nodded and let a soft grin flit across my face.

"That I do." I whispered, the Irish brogue reminding me of times when the smell of fresh Ireland air, sandalwood, and whiskey permeated the air. Of times when Fiona and I were the only two people in the world.

"What can I say? Some people just want to watch the world burn, Michael. Others want to be the one on the other end of the detonator." She winked down at me before standing slowly, and helping me to my feet. "Come on, then. You haven't slept in ages, and I know that I could use a night's rest." My hand tightened on her wrist as she turned to walk toward the bed, an irrational fear clawing at my chest as I stared at her, wild eyed. She turned to face me curiously. "What's wrong?"

"You'll...you'll be here when I wake up, right? This isn't just some sick dream?" She smiled and stepped up to me, removing any semblance of personal space.

"I'm not going anywhere, Michael. Ever."

"Good," I whispered, nuzzling my nose against hers. "Because I don't know what I'd do if I'd never met a woman like you."


End file.
